


Red wolves and white dragons

by Urimaginarygirlfriend



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, F/M, War of the Roses au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 16:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10167539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urimaginarygirlfriend/pseuds/Urimaginarygirlfriend
Summary: Sansa is marrying a man she’s never met before, a man who by all accounts is a beast. What she finds, though, is someone quite different than what she expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of this au. I'm currently writing more, but I don't know how much I'll write, or if this will turn into a multi-chapter fic. We'll see!

She’s brought before him in her finest silks, but the smile she’d once given so freely was gone from her face. Shoulders squared and back straight, she walked into the room, her mother following behind her.

“You’re ending the war, Sansa. You’re doing the right thing.” She feels more Tully than Stark, duty the thing that makes her choice easy this time. It is her duty to marry this man she doesn’t know, who’d slain their enemies, but would have killed her father if he could.

“You’ll save so many lives, isn’t that enough?” Her mother had said, when she first heard the news. And it was, it is, but Sansa would be lying if she said she didn’t hope her soon-to-be husband would be comely, or perhaps even gentle.  
The last part is hard to hope for, though. Fearsome is what he is.

The Lords fear him, her sister fears him, the smallfolk fear him, everyone fears him as much as they admire him, and she’s to be his wife and queen. He was crowned on the battlefield, the blood of King Joffrey still seeping into the ground, killed in battle by Jon’s own blade. It can’t have been hard, for Joffrey was useless in battle, but she hears Jon is an excellent swordsman, and it unnerves her.

Dangerous men are not good husbands. They’re not.

The court is silent when she enters, and this is the first time she’s been back since she was a child, since there was no war. They part for her, whispers erupting as she passes. It feels strange to be in such a big room with so many people after living in the sept for years, but Sansa can only tell herself to get used to it. She puts her mask on, leaving her true self behind. The engagement is already announced, and they’ll expect her to be loving to this man.

He’s dressed in black, black hair, black beard, grey eyes, but he doesn’t look scary, not like she knows men can. He’s handsome, with pouty lips and pale skin, living up to his name. The white dragon. He has a dragon embroidered on his doublet, and Sansa’s reminded she’ll be embroidering his doublets soon.

He’s looking at her, and for a moment his eyes look uncertain in a way Sansa hadn’t expected. It’s like he’s as unsure of her as she is of him, but that’s not likely, that’s not how things are. It can’t be. She’s seeing things, her imagination playing tricks on her to give her false hope.

She walks to stand in front of him, curtsying deeply, knowing full well this dress and the angle he stands above her in will give him ample display of her. She didn’t pick the dress herself. He takes her hand and kisses it, and she can’t help but notice how soft his lips are against her skin, and how his thumb skims along her finger as he lets her hand go. She makes herself snap out of the trance the sudden contact with him puts her in, but she doesn’t quite succeed. She’d mutter a curse if she was alone.

She doesn’t know what he’s thinking, if he’s happy with this match for other reasons than hers. He sits down on his throne, and she stands dutifully beside him, as happily betrotheds do. They need to appear united, they need to show everyone that this marriage, this peace, will last.

It goes slow. Sansa can see the young girls pointing at her and whispering about her hair and her dress, and the rowdier Lords talking in hushed voices and suppressing laughs, no doubt talking about the bedding that will soon take place. The wedding is in a moon, just long enough away for everyone important to reach them, but far too soon for Sansa.  
Jon faces petition after petition, handling them all with calm and fairness, and Sansa’s glad he’s honourable, at least. Perhaps he won’t be that horrible. Perhaps.

He rises and offers his arm when they’re done, and she takes it carefully. She tries not to look too confused, when he leads her away to his solar, achingly empty as they enter. This could be where she finds out who he is, or where she has to settle with never knowing her husband. She’s not sure if she wants either. The smart part of her wants to disappear, the part that’s still a girl wants to stay and know. She can’t run, though. She stays.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, and she lets go of his arm. “I don’t know if you actually wished to marry me, but you are, and… I want to make the best of it.” He looks uncertain again, almost shy, so Sansa doesn’t expect it when he leans over and kisses her, palming her cheek softly before pulling away.

His lips are soft, just like before, and her’s sting when they’re not pressed to his anymore. Her mouth drops open, and she looks into his eyes, trying to know if this is a trick or not. But his eyes are honest and glowing, and that’s why she presses her lips back to his when he kisses her again. A kiss, and another, just enough to make her head spin and her stomach flip over.

He looks at her for a moment, and she gets back to her senses. She’s heard of these things, of kissing and things Ladies don’t want but men do, and suddenly every horrible tale she’s ever heard comes back to her, and she’s freezing and panting and there’s fear in every inch of her body, but she’s too terrified to move. Jon only sees, the uncertainty coming back to his face, and takes his hand away from her. “I won’t hurt you,” he says again, and takes a step away from her.

She calms down slowly, thinking- hoping- the songs aren’t always right. This wasn’t something she chose, but perhaps it won’t be a tragedy. Perhaps he’s a good king, a good husband. Perhaps he’ll try.

He’s leaning against his desk, studying her, and Sansa thinks there’s care in his eyes. Affection, she tries not to hope. It’s that small forbidden thought, perhaps he likes me, that makes her close the distance between them and kiss him again. She bumps her nose with his awkwardly, and he’s the one that’s surprised this time, but he soon gives back, leading the way for her.

He kisses her lower lip, and her mouth opens for him, the kiss getting deeper than Sansa thought it could be. She’s bracing her hands on his chest, liking the feeling of him, and he’s palming her cheek again, his other hand resting firmly on her waist.

Somehow she fits against him, and she has to use all her mental force to pull away from him, her mind muddled with the feel of his lips and the drag of his beard against her cheek. She looks at him for a second, still new to this, still not sure what to think. “I want to know you,” she says, being incredibly honest, hoping it’s realistic. She realises these are the first words she’s spoken to him.

A soft smile spreads on his lips, and he nods. “I want to know you, too.”

And just like that, a huge burden is lifted off her shoulders. She finally allows herself to smile back, then thinks about kissing him again, but decides to wait. They’ll have plenty of time to kiss some other day. Her mother will worry about her. “Good bye, your Grace.” She places a quick kiss on his cheek, and whisks away, her silk skirts flying behind her.

She finds her mother in her solar, two eyes waiting for an explanation. Sansa doesn’t give any. Whatever has happened is hers, not the realm’s, not her mother’s. It’s hers, and she doesn’t want to share it with anyone. Only Jon.


End file.
